Revival
by That Girl55
Summary: Four Tourists and their brush with hell. One shot.


The four of them were on a guided tour. Key word here was 'guided,' but like all tourists did they got brave, they wandered off track.

Lori led them, really. She was a brunette bombshell with the prettiest, clearest blue eyes you'd ever seen. She saw an inscription on a far wall, and wanted to test how well she'd learned Latin.

"You didn't even take the class," They warned her. "Rosetta Stone doesn't count."

She laughed at them, but she stopped when she realized she couldn't translate it. Her best friend, Emory, came up and translated for her.

"What does that mean?" Lori asked.

"I think we're under one of those streets that collapsed," Corey shrugged.

Corey was dating Lori, the most unlikely pair you could find. Lori was exuberant and bright, Corey was shy and meek. He stood at a small 5'7 and weighed 150lbs, if that. He wasn't Lori's type, but Emory had set them up back in high school, and they'd stuck.

The last member of the group was silent. Derek Mathers, Emory's boyfriend of nearly five years. He and Emory were twins, quiet and reclusive, with more interest in Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter than the catacombs. Dead people and Paris-that was Lori's thing.

They turned back to the group, but there was a wall where they once were.

"I thought it was that way," Emory said, but the others rolled their eyes and shrugged, heading off through the only tunnel available.

Hell wasn't as scary as they'd said-at least, not at first.

Then they heard a woman singing.

"Emory, shut up!" Lori hollered.

"It's not me," Emory shook her head.

They froze for a minute, standing together in the tight hallway. Lori had always had a fear of being underground, but she was doing quite well for now.

"What do we do?" Someone asked.

"We have to keep moving." Lori shook her head. "There's a way out somewhere."

But where?

The singing was behind them, but the farther the walked the closer it seemed to get. They turned a corner, and there it was.

A radio.

But not just any radio, a car radio.

The Volvo in front of them was smashed and damaged, it looked like it had been wrapped around a tree. The radio still played, Taylor Swift's Back to December humming from the radio.

"How'd a car get down here?" Corey asked, scratching his head. Lori put a hand on his bicep, trying to tell him it was better not to ask.

"Let's keep moving," Derek said, and they nodded, moving towards the corridor.

They looked back, and Emory stood looking at the car, mesmerized.

"Em?" Lori asked, coming over to her friend and taking her hand. She tried to pull her away, but she couldn't. "C'mon, our minds are playing games on us."

"Do you remember this car, Lori?" Emory asked. "You were only in it a few times."

"What?" Corey furrowed his brows.

"Because you wrecked it," Derek said, stepping forward. "The night we broke up for the first time. You wrapped your car around a tree."

"You were in a coma for two days, they said you wouldn't wake up. But then you did." Lori nodded. "Can we just go?"

"No!" Emory shouted. "How does it know, guys? How does it know what I did?"

"You didn't do anything, Emory! You were upset, you shouldn't have been driving. It was the middle of the night, and you had the radio up too loud-you were distracted." Derek tried to reason with her.

They looked at the car, the shiny volvo that once belonged to Emory's father. They heard the stereo shut off, and a woman's cries were heard from somewhere nearby.

"There's someone trapped under the car!" Corey yelled, running to look at the woman. She was beat up pretty bad-lots of blood, a head wound. She wouldn't make it-that much was clear.

She was crying.

"Em..."

Emory started to sob, hands glued to her face.

"I'm sorry!" She screamed, presumably at the woman. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I really didn't! I didn't see you."

The rest of the group stood there, looking at their friend. They'd heard she was the only one injured that night, her car wrapped around a tree. What they hadn't been told was that there was a woman, pinned between the tree and the car. She died on impact, but a homeless druggie doesn't get a trial, doesn't make the news.

The woman, as torn up as she was, beaconed towards Emory, and Emory came. The woman latched onto her as the car started to disappear. The trio ran towards her, but they were too late. In Emory's own mind, she'd gotten what she deserved.

The rest of the three of them trudged on, tears in their eyes and pain in their hearts.

Three hallways later and they came across a cross. It was huge, seven feet tall and propped up against a wall. There was a pew sitting directly across from it, giving it the look of a makeshift church.

"Derek, your dad was a preacher." Lori sighed. "Maybe you should say a few words, for Emory."

"I don't think this is the place," Derek shook his head.

"He's right," Corey nodded. "We have to focus on getting out of here, so we can figure out what happened back there."

"Isn't it obvious?" Lori rolled her eyes. "Emory read the latin-'Abandon all hope, you who enter here.' We went down that tunnel, Corey. Now we've lost all hope-welcome to hell, we're not getting out."

"Why would there be a church in hell?" Corey rolled his eyes.

"Do you two always have to fight?" Derek asked, staring at the cross in a way similar to how Emory stared at the car.

Lori and Corey continued to bicker, taking their anger and frustration out on each other, while Derek moved closer.

The cross reminded him of the one in his father's house, when he was a child.

"On your knees, boy!" A familiar voice said.

On instinct, Derek fell. He turned to find himself staring into the eyes of his dead father.

"Funny seeing you here," He snickered.

"I want to see you on that cross! Up there, like Jesus!"

Derek obeyed his father, like he had been doing for years. Since the boy could stand he'd be kept waiting for hours, arms strung up like Jesus Christ himself on the large cross in the family room. His father said it taught him piety, how to be like Christ.

When his father brought out the ties this time, they weren't ties. He watched as his own father hammered nails through his hands. He ran a hand down his sons legs, picking his feet off the floor and placing them against the wood of the cross. Sweat poured down his body.

"Dad, please," Derek pleaded, but his father was in no mood for mercy.

He hammered the nail through both feet in two swift movements, and then Derek began to scream.

Corey and Lori were there again suddenly, pulling at the nails and trying to pry them out. It only made them hurt worse.

"How did you do this to yourself, Derek!" Lori cried, knowing it was impossible. But there had been no one else in the room with them-no one they'd seen, at least.

They tugged at him for another five minutes, getting nowhere.

"I don't want to say it, but I will," Corey shook his head. "Derek, we have to go. We'll come back for you, I promise."

"What?" Lori cried. "You're leaving him here to die?"

"Crucifixion is a long process, Lori. It'll be days before he dies. That gives us time, time to get out ourselves and to bring back help for Derek."

Lori shook her head.

"We already lost Emory,"

Derek looked at them, pain in his eyes.

"Go, just go."

Lori pouted, but Corey pulled her along, and they went.

They stopped after another two hallways for Lori to burrow herself in Corey's chest and cry off all of her makeup. She was a brave girl, but always a sensitive one. Corey was surprised she'd waited this long to lose it.

She finally pulled away and he smiled at her, wiping the mascara out from under her eyes.

"I look like a raccoon," She smiled, frowning after she realize how trivial that was. Emory was dead, Derek was dying, and she was wasting time crying.

"Nah, you're beautiful." Corey kissed her, and they started to move again.

"Mama?"

The voice came from in front of them. It stopped Lori in her tracks.

"Oh, God," She moaned, for it was her turn.

"What?" Corey asked, shining his light in front of them.

There stood a little boy, about two years old, with shaggy brown hair and a brown complexion. He looked healthy, happy even. He looked _alive. _

He was smiling at them-no, at Lori, and he launched himself at her, rushing to be picked up. Reluctantly, she bent to pull him into her arms. She was crying again.

"Hungry," He said, opening his mouth and pointing at it. Lori cried even harder then, hugging the boy as tightly to her as possible.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry." She said between sobs.

Corey stood, mesmerized as the boy changed from a happy, healthy toddler to something else. He was fat and bloated and gray-he was decomposing in her arms. His skin was coming off in chunks and his teeth were falling out; he said 'hungry' over and over again.

"I didn't know!" Lori hollered, holding the child so tight to her that Corey feared she'd snap him.

All in a moment, the toddler disappeared. Lori stood beside him, her face drenched in tears. She reached for Corey, crying into his chest for a few moments until her tears dried. She was pretty sure she'd ruined his shirt, but it was too dark to tell.

They started walking again.

"He was a little boy I used to babysit when I was fifteen. His name was Keller." She told him after a few moments. "It was lunchtime, and he kept saying he was hungry over and over again. I'd never fed him before, so I figured I'd give him something easy, like a banana. There were a couple fresh ones laying around his house. He loved them, he even asked for a second one. I'd just gotten him all cleaned up when his mom came home, and I was dismissed. I heard the ambulances later that night, he had a banana allergy. He died, Corey, and it's my fault."

Lori sniffled a little, and Corey put a hand on her shoulder.

"They didn't tell you, Lori. Like you said, you didn't know."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore." Lori said, so they didn't.

A little while later they found themselves in a big room, one filled with people. They were moaning and groaning with toothless mouths and bleak, empty eyes.

"Fuck," Corey said, and it occurred to Lori that it might've been the first time she'd heard him cuss.

"Corey," She said hesitantly, putting a hand in his. "We can fight it, remember?"

He nodded, biting his lip. A woman ran up to him then, clad in a hospital gown. She was beautiful in a stark kind of way, with high cheekbones and hair that shone no matter what. The back of the gown was open, and it did nothing to hide that she had a shapely rear.

"My my, Corey, aren't you getting big." The woman cackled, caressing his cheek. "How about we ditch Miss Centerfold and go have some fun, huh?"

"Get out of here, Brenda." Corey said, his hand sweaty as it held tightly to Lori's.

"What?" The woman's eyes darkened, her figure became not sensual, but menacing. She was power and rage and beauty, all shoved into one woman. "Wanna try that again, Corey?"

"What happened was wrong, Brenda." Corey closed his eyes tightly. "I don't want it to happen again."

Brenda shrieked, but instead of coming for Corey she flew at Lori, tackling the girl to the ground with her hands around her neck.

Corey moved to pull Brenda off, but he couldn't get a good grip.

"Why is it always her, huh? Lori's so beautiful, Lori's so smart-Lori's the reason you broke us off in the first place! She's the reason you quit, isn't it?" Brenda moved to Corey, flipping her arms over to reveal yellow, puss-filled scars. "See what you made me do, Corey? Don't you see how you put me here?"

"You made the choice yourself," Lori spat, staring the woman down from her spot on the floor. She tried to catch her breath, tried to rise. Before she could get another word out, Brenda was crouching over her, hands poised, ready to strike.

"How dare you," She cackled, diving at Lori.

She rolled out of the way just in time, and Corey grabbed Brenda's biceps, pulling her towards him.

"You leave her alone, it's me you want."

Brenda laughed again, and then scurried past them, running off in the direction they came. The other patients disappeared from the room.

Corey helped Lori up, rubbing her back gently as she caught her breath.

"When we get out," She huffed. "We're going to have a long talk about that."

Corey nodded.

There were footsteps behind them; Corey was sure it was Brenda, returning for round two, but a man with a lantern appeared. Around the corner came a man in a suit, a cross around his neck. He had on glasses, the thick rimmed, dated kind.

Corey's brows furrowed. "but, you're-"

"You two lookin' for a way out of here?" He asked.

"Yes," Lori answered for Corey.

"This way." He brushed past them, leading the way.

Corey wondered if this was a trap, some other test while they traveled through what Lori called hell. So far, if you asked him, hell wasn't that bad. He still had Lori; he had defeated his demons. But his friends, they weren't so lucky.

The man led them to a manhole.

"Go on, open it." He smiled.

They pulled on it, but it wouldn't come undone. They turned to ask, but the man was already gone, his light fading in the distance.

"One last test, I guess." Lori smiled, kissing his cheek as if to say 'we've almost made it.'

She lost her balance then, falling into the manhole and pushing on it.

Lori looked up into the night sky.

Laughing, she grabbed Corey's hand and pulled him up there with her.

The tourists went to the police and told them everything. Well, not everything everything, but about getting separated from the group, about getting lost. Lori, always light on her feet, made up some story about how there was some maniac down there messing with them, how he'd killed one of their friends and actually crucified the other one, and he was down there somewhere, suffering.

"Would you be willing to help us retrace your steps, to find him?" The officer offered.

Corey and Lori looked at each other. Lead an entire parade of police officers through hell? They wouldn't do that, but they would tell them how to get there.

They called home, told their parents everything. They talked about extending their trip for another week, to give enough time for Derek to be found, but Paris held too many bad memories for them now. They were eager to return to the United States, where Gettysburg was the closest thing to catacombs.

They wouldn't talk about what happened, not until they were on the red eye back to JFK. Neither one could sleep, and for good reason, so instead they talked.

"Corey," Lori mumbled. "who was she?"

"Before we met, I worked part time in psychiatric hospital. I did a lot of cleaning for them, I got to entertain the patients and that. One of them was Brenda, a nymphomaniac. Guess who she decided to shower her affections on?" He sighed. "Of course, I stopped when I met you. Brenda couldn't handle it, so I quit my job there. I never would've guessed she killed herself, though. No one ever told me."

"She's very beautiful," Lori sighed.

"I don't know, it was pretty dark in those catacombs. I remember her being rather...old and saggy."

"But a good screw?"

"You're better," He whispered to her.

There was a moment of silence, of Lori leaning on Corey and being grateful they were thousands of miles above the Atlantic right now, leaving Paris.

"Do you feel bad, leaving him?" Lori said finally.

"Lori, the priest down there, the man who led us to safety, that was Mr. Mathers; Derek's father. He died when we were thirteen." Corey sighed.

"I wonder what a priest did to get sent to hell," Lori said. "Do you ever think about those things, whether they were really bad people, or just misunderstood?"

"I think he's protecting his son down there, Lori, helping him to get found. At least, that's what I hope."

Lori started to drift off, the familiarity of plane rides overcoming her fear. There were at least fifty people on this plane, she was in the sky, and most of all she had Corey with her.

Corey saw her fall asleep and realized how tired he was as well. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and nodded off too.

Two weeks since they'd been back, and the twenty-three year olds hadn't heard a word from anyone in Paris. They finally called the police station where they'd made the report, and asked whether or not they'd found Derek Mathers.

"Derek who?" The officer asked. "I have no report filed for a Derek Mathers."

"What do you mean? We spoke to Officer Baudin about it. He made a report, said he'd send out a search party. I saw him do it." Corey said, his words rushed and angry.

"Calm down, sir, I'll get Officer Baudin."

"Hello, Baudin speaking?" But the voice on the phone was a woman's, not the man they'd talked to back in Paris.

"I'm sorry, do you have a husband, or a brother or something? The Baudin we spoke to was definitely male." Corey sighed, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Nope, just me." The woman said, all too cheerfully. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, thank you for your time."

Corey hung up, looking at Lori.

"They never looked for him." He said, shaking his head. "We left Paris thinking they would find Derek and save him, and they didn't even bother. It's like we never made the report, Lori."

"Should we go back and find him-"

"It's too late," Corey shook his head. "It's been two weeks, he's dead by now."

"God," Lori sat down on the sofa. "I feel like such an awful person."

"We tried, Lori. We really tried to help him."

"We should've tried harder," She shook her head. Corey moved to hug her, but she pushed him away. "It doesn't matter now. We'll pay for it later."

"What?"

"When we die, Corey." She rolled her eyes. "We got sent to hell while we were still alive, do you think we've even got a chance at heaven? No, we'll be back in those catacombs soon enough. We can make it up to Derek then."

"I can't believe you. Those catacombs-it was a maze, that's all, a maze with tricks of the mind. It was something supernatural, something dark-but not hell."

"You just wait Corey, one day I'll prove you wrong."


End file.
